


Our last summer; memories that remain

by itsamagicalplace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Relationships - Freeform, Mamma Mia AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5156987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsamagicalplace/pseuds/itsamagicalplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye May is getting married, and more than anything, she wants her father to give her away. The only problem? She has no clue who he is. Her mother Melinda brought her up alone, and isn’t particularly open when it comes to discussing her past. So, armed with only a couple of photographs she finds in the attic, an exceptional range of semi-illegal hacking skills, and the spiritual island retreat that she calls home, Skye sets in motion a chain of events that could not only reveal the key to her past, but may also alter the future of everybody around her, forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Skye stared out of the window in front of her, watching the orange glow of the sun beginning to drop across the canvas of blue above, heading slowly but surely towards the edge of the forest that surrounded her cabin.

Another afternoon was coming to an end, and she was closer than ever to the day of her dreams.

One month.

One month until she would walk down the aisle, surrounded by family and friends and guests, and promise vows of love of commitment to her soulmate.

She honestly couldn’t wait.

She glanced away from the window, letting her gaze settle on the calendar she’d hung above her desk, each day crossed by a pink X as the countdown she’d been following since the previous October drew ever closer to being complete, and she smiled.

Life was pretty perfect.

She lived on a beautiful island, just off the coast of Hawaii, and spent each day helping her mother to run the retreat she had spent most of her life setting up and developing. They were a centre of mixed purpose, not only for respite and relaxation, but also a secret honeymoon destination, with daily classes of sunrise yoga on the beach, tai-chi in the forest, and meditation up in the rocky mountains.

Everything about their lives together was wonderful.

There was just one thing missing, something that had been lingering in the back of Skye’s mind for most of her life, occasionally popping out and questioning her happiness.

Her father.

She’d grown up on the island, raised by just her mom, the two of them forming the strongest bond possible, friends throughout time. Skye had never cared about, nor realised, what she was potentially missing out on by not having a father figure in her life.

That was, until Andrew showed up.

Andrew came to the island as part of their introductory counselling sessions - as part of a therapy centre, her mom had contacted a facility on the mainland, who had agreed to send over one of their psychologists, to offer support to anyone visiting who needed it. They scheduled fortnightly sessions with a qualified psychological therapist, who could talk with patients and attendees about any issues they may be having, and help the clients deal with and process them how he could

Skye had been ten when he’d first shown up, climbing off the small boat that was the only access on and off the island. He’d stood on the jetty in the sun, and she’d thought he looked a little like a movie star in his suit and sunglasses. 

She had been eleven when he stopped coming every two weeks, and began to stay on the island full time.

She was almost thirteen when he married her mom, and became her stepdad.

He’d taken to the role naturally, and Skye finally understood what it was to have a father-like figure. He taught her to ride her roller blades around the cobbled paths, and patched her knees when she scraped all the skin off them, helped her with her home-schooling when her mom was busy with a class, and more than anything, became a friend to her.

Their relationship wasn’t exactly father-daughter, but it was enough for Skye, and she enjoyed the time they spent together.

She was fifteen when they divorced.

It had hurt at the time, to know they no longer were in love, not the kind of love that she had read about in her books anyway. Not the kind that was meant to end in happily-ever-after and children of their own.

Her mom had found her on the beach one evening, kneeling in the sand, staring across at the flickering lights of the mainland in the distance. She’d sat next to Skye, stroked her hair, and promised her that they just didn’t “work” together any more, but that he would still be there on the island with them.

She’d wiped the stray tear away, and nodded.

Andrew continued his sessions, and as Skye grew, he became more of a confident for her, the two often sharing jokes and conversations alone.

Skye saw as she got older that her mom had been right; she and Andrew were both happier once they had separated, and Skye accepted it.

But the loss once more set about her mind wandering, especially as she passed her eighteenth birthday; the knowledge that there was somebody else out there, somebody who shared fifty-percent of her DNA with.

Someone her mother had once known, possibly even loved, and now, was never mentioned.

Walking down the aisle on her wedding day, and being “given away” to Antoine by Andrew, would be great, and he had already offered to do it if she wanted him to. But Skye knew, deep inside, that she needed to find out who her real father was first.

Even if he could just be there, and see her on the day.

Even if he just knew she existed.

That would be enough for her.

But first, she had to find him, and she had no idea where to start.

Her mother was secretive, quiet and unsharing when it came to her past. When Skye had asked as a child “why don’t I have a dad?”, Melinda had told her only that he lived on the mainland, and that she hadn’t seen him in a very long time. 

A curious child, Skye would often probe for more answers, more detail, anything that she could use to add to the mental picture in her mind of who he could be. But her mother would shake her head, tighten her lips, and tell her that she didn’t want to talk about him.

She’d accepted that, then.

But now? Now she was an adult, and she finally wanted answers, and Skye was going to do her very best to find some, even if that meant going behind her mother’s back.

And there was one person Skye could talk to who had been there all those years ago, who would likely be able to point her in the right direction.

A person who had told Skye she could always come to her, no matter what the problem, and no matter her age.

She’d never asked her before, knowing she would likely give her the truth - maybe now she was truly ready to hear it?

And she lived only a few minutes walk away.

* * *

 

“Skye” Lian murmured softly, pausing her lips against the edge of her teacup.

She had no need to glance around to confirm it was her granddaughter who had entered the sun-room, knowing already by the soft padding sounds of her feet.

“ _Wai po_ ” Skye greeted in response, wandering across the room in her socks, and coming to a stop by the velvet armchair to the right of Lian. “Can I ask you something?”

Lian nodded once, setting the china tea-cup down onto its matching saucer, and closing the novel that rested on her lap. She waited patiently, letting her granddaughter gather her thoughts. It wasn’t often Skye came to ask for advice, but when she did, Lian tried to be as honest as possible with her; she believed all children deserved the truth, and that secrets and lies could only serve to damage relationships and trust.

“What do you know about my father?”

Lian sighed, nodding her head to herself, almost as though in resignation for the coming conversation.

“ _Wo bao bei de sun nui_ ,” she replied gently, smiling through her eyes at her only granddaughter. “I have known for many years you would come to me with this question.”

Skye frowned, leaning forwards and resting her elbows on her knees, hands twisting in her lap. “How did you know?”

“You are your mother’s daughter,” she replied simply. “You question the truth, and accept what you need to know at the time. Now you are growing, you are moving forward, and the truth you seek is more than what it was before.”

Skye nodded slowly, realising her grandmother was correct. Her whole life, she’d been sort of okay with not knowing who her birth father was. Melinda had raised her perfectly well on her own, and then, later, when Andrew came along, Skye had accepted him as her stepfather without qualm.

But now, a month before she married the love of her life, Skye knew that she was drawn more than ever towards the desire to find out where - or who - she really came from.

Lian watched her calmly, letting her collect and gather her thoughts into a controllable bundle, before she continued.

“You wish to find him.”

Skye nodded, then shook her head, before looking back up to her, smiling weakly. “I just… I want to meet him, you know?” she paused, laughing shakily, almost as though her own idea was absurd. “I want him to be at my wedding.”

Lian did not laugh, she simply watched her granddaughter thoughtfully.

“You hope I know of his identity?”

Skye blinked, a bubble of hope and fear twisting under her ribcage. “Do you?”

“No, my child,” she replied softly, trying not to cause pain with her words. “I do not.”

Skye sighed, wondering why it was such a secret who he was. “Do you have any idea? Anything?”

Lian glanced over to the window, staring out at the setting sun, her eyes glazing over as though losing herself in memories.

“Your mother led a very…. unrestrained life when she was younger,” Lian explained, and Skye could hear the disapproval in her tone. “She worked hard in school, as expected, and gained excellent grades. But as she got older, she spent more time with her friends than I thought necessary.”

“Aunt Natasha by any chance?” Skye asked, smiling at the mention of her favourite aunt, whom she hadn’t seen in almost two years.

“Yes, “ Lian continued. “And more; Maria, Barbara, some others. She had various friendship groups; they didn’t all seem to know one another. They stayed out late, visited bars, went to parties. She didn’t bring any boys home to meet me, but I know she was dating. I could see the signs.”

Skye nodded, willing her to continue.

“I worried for her, worried that her lifestyle would lead to a path other than the intended.”

“And you were right” Skye murmured quietly, looking downwards; she’d always known her mother hadn’t intended to get pregnant so young, and hearing her grandmother tell her so hurt, just a little.

“Do not misunderstand me, _Tian_ ,” Lian replied, turning back to her with a fierce expression on her face. “You are the greatest gift she has ever given me, and your life has provided more joy and happiness than I ever imagined.”

“But this wasn’t what you wanted for her.”

Lian sighed, reaching out and taking her granddaughter’s hands in her own.

“She studied hard, and I hoped she would enter a career in medicine or law. As it happens,” she continued, glancing around the room with a look of approval. “She has made a wonder of the centre, and I am very proud of her for this.”

Skye nodded, squeezing her hands. They had slid away from the main conversation, and she was eager to draw it back.

“So… do you think my dad could be one of the guys she was dating?”

“I do not know who he is Skye,” Lian assured, gazing at her firmly. “But yes, I believe he should be one of them. However, like I told you, I do not have names.”

“So he could be anyone she knew around the time she got pregnant?”

Lian nodded once.

“Do you have anything that could help?” Skye asked desperately. This was more information than she had ever been given, more than she’d ever known, and she hoped to gain a little more whilst Lian was being so forthcoming. “Even just random memories, or places she would go?”

Lian observed her, seemingly debating within herself whether it was a good idea or not to encourage her granddaughter down the path she apparently wanted to take.

After a few moments of silence, in which the only audible sounds were the birds calling their evening song from the trees around them, and the gentle drip of a tap in the next room, she opted for the former.

“There is a trunk in the attic,” Lian explained, releasing Skye’s hands and picking up her tea once more. “You will find in there objects from our life back on the mainland, before we moved here. Some of it belonged to Qiaolian, from when she was around your age. I’ve never been through it, but something in there may help.”

Skye smiled, squeezing her grandmother’s hands gently in her own, before releasing them, standing back up and scrunching her toes into the rug.

“Thank you.”

Lian nodded, reaching out to retrieve her book, and Skye began to leave the room.

“A warning to you however,” Lian called after her, and Skye turned back towards the room, finding her grandmother staring out of the window into the sunset across the treetops.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful my child. Whilst you may find an answer to your questions, be wary that this is also your mother’s past, a past she has kept quiet about for some time. She may not be too happy if she discovers you digging through her demons.”

Skye absorbed the words, wondering what could be hidden in the past that could be considered her mother’s “demons”. She knew very little of their life prior to her birth, and Skye had spent many years trying to wriggle details out of them - without much success. Tonight was more than she had ever gained.

She left the room with a nod in response, her mind filled with the knowledge that her grandmother could have just helped unlock the mystery of her past.


	2. Chapter 2

Skye glanced around her once more, checking for the umpteenth time in the last thirty seconds that her mother was nowhere to be seen - not that she would be upstairs in Lian’s house at almost 6pm anyway; she was likely still teaching her sunset tai-chi session.

Skye was more nervous than she thought she would be, considering all she was doing was looking for a box of what would potentially just be old junk. But that junk could reveal who her father was, which was huge.

And as Lian had pointed out to her, it was her mom’s past - something she’d kept very hush hush about over the years.

It almost felt like she was snooping where she shouldn’t.

Well, there was no “almost” about it.

But Skye had to know, even just for herself. Regardless of why her mother had kept it quiet from her, this mystery guy was her biological dad. He was blood family, and she had a right to know.

Decision made, and giving herself no more chance to wriggle out of it, she lifted her hands, pushing open the hatch to the attic, and releasing the rope ladder from above.

It dropped in front of her with a soft ruffle, a small cloud of dust drifting off the thick strands, and Skye winced, trying not to cough as the particles filled her lungs. She knew how long it had been since anyone had gone up there; Lian had lived in this cabin by herself for at least ten years, and Skye was pretty sure her grandmother was no longer agile enough to be climbing rope ladders by herself.

She reached up, taking hold of the sides tightly, and pulled, lifting herself up onto the first rung, praying silently that after all this time the rope hadn’t frayed or thinned, and that she’d be able to get all the way up without falling or fracturing anything.

With a few heaves and tugs, she managed to get up into the attic, and, after a moment of hesitation, she pulled the ladder back up inside with her, closing the trapdoor behind her.

Through the small window built into the roof, a stream of early evening light flowed through, particles of dust dancing in the strobe across the room. Skye glanced around, taking in the appearance of the tiny room, from the soft beige colour of the walls, to the worn purple armchair sat alone in the corner, a pile of cardboard boxes stacked upon it, each labelled in flowing handwriting with the contents.

In the opposite corner, stood a chest of drawers, a deep mahogany wood with intricately carved handles on each section. It was beautiful, and Skye wondered why it was up here, untouched and unused.

She soon spotted the trunk Lian had told her about. It was on the far side of the room, in front of a grand mirror, a sheet half draped across the top of it.

Whether that was to intentionally keep it hidden, or to protect it from dust-damage, Skye was unsure, but she wandered over to it anyway, kneeling down and tugging the cloth away.

The removal of the blanket revealed a beautiful, large chest, with gold lettering across the top, and a set of jewels embedded in the front. She widened her eyes, swiping a hand across the surface, a thin layer of dust connecting with her palm.

“Why are you hidden?” she murmured, more to herself than the box, before reaching out, and unlatching the fastening on the front.

The trunk creaked open, revealing a random jumble of items piled inside, left to settle over potentially two decades.

Skye took a deep breath, before reaching in, and lifting out the first stack of things from within.

There was a black leather-bound book on the top, a quick glance inside revealing it contained Chinese Folktales, and the words _Qiaolian May, aged 6_ written in wobbly handwriting on the nameplate inside. Skye smiled to herself, and placed it onto the ground beside her.

She flicked through the rest of the items she held, taking note of a couple of postcards addressed to Lian from unknown friends, an envelope containing flight tickets between China and America for her grandparents, and a newspaper clipping from the 1970’s, circling the announcement of her mom’s birth.

They were all placed on top of the book, and Skye turned her attention back to the trunk.

She reached inside once more, and lifted out what looked like a diary, stuffed full of extra papers and notes. There was no name on the outside, but a look inside told her it had belonged to her mom.

She flicked through the pages, half wanting to read the faded entries, and half feeling like that was a step too far. Skye knew that if she kept a diary, and her mom found it and read about her deepest secrets, she’d be mortified.

She’d think about it, depending on what else she found.

Towards the back of the diary, was a collection of pictures, and Skye eagerly slipped them out from between the pages, thumbing through them to find anybody she recognised.

A few pictures later, and some familiar faces appeared.

There was a photograph of her mom with Natasha, the two of them wearing co-ordinated leather jackets and studded boots, both with a look on their face that promised trouble. Skye grinned, recognising their shared expressions as those they so often wore when meeting up even now.

“Mom was a bit of a badass,” she murmured to herself, flicking to the next picture, which showed her mother sat upon what looked like a Harley Davidson, smirking through red-stained lips at whoever had been behind the camera taking the photo.

Another picture showed her mother and grandfather together, playing golf somewhere on the mainland. Skye smiled; she’d only met him a couple of times before he had passed, but she’d loved him straight away.

Her mom must have been around sixteen, and was wearing a skirt and cap, something Skye found slightly amusing given how she seemed to dress now.

She moved on.

There was one of a young girl, ice-skating across a frozen rink. Her face was turned away from the camera, but Skye knew who it was without even needing further visual confirmation.

She almost forgot why she was up in the attic, losing herself in a past she had no part in.

The first picture giving her any kind of possibility at tracing her roots, was a photograph of her mom stood next to a guy in a soldier’s uniform.

Skye wasn’t going to lie, she didn’t know if it was a real uniform or not, but based on the surroundings in the photo she was going to say yes.

He was young, maybe in his early to mid-twenties when the pic had been taken, with a short crop of fair hair, and blue eyes that matched the colour of the dress her mom was wearing. She’d have put her mom at around twenty.  

Based on her own looks, Skye had always worked on the assumption that she was only half Chinese, meaning her father would likely be of Caucasian appearance. It wasn’t for certain, but it was enough to go on for now.

This guy fit that criteria. He seemed to be at some kind of ceremony - maybe he had just become a soldier? Or an awards evening?

Skye let the thoughts trail as she placed the photograph to the side, the first in her pile of maybe’s.

Another few pictures followed of her mom with Lian, with Natasha, with Bobbi, and a few with Maria and some guy with an eyepatch. Skye dismissed him from her parentage based on the deep colour of his skin, but he seemed like a pretty cool guy.

Some pictures were captioned, her ever-organised mom writing the location and date on the back. Some were not.

She came across a different photo a short time later, one of her mother climbing up a rock face, as someone else jumped from the top into the ocean below. She’d done the same thing herself a few years earlier when Jemma and Fitz had come to visit, and again she marvelled at how similar they really were.

At the front of the picture, grinning at the lens as he seemed to aim an imaginary bow and arrow at her mom, was a guy with a slightly rugged appearance.

Fair-ish brown/blonde hair, a slight amount of scruff on his chin, and fair skin that looked to be burning a little under the sun of the day. He was also a possibility.

Skye knew she had a streak of daredevil in her - had she got that from this guy?

Turning it over, she found a handwritten caption in her mom’s script: _“Rock-climbing at Barton’s, ‘85”._

She added it to the pile, wondering if she was going completely mad. She was considering every guy her mom was photographed with as her potential father; for all she knew, he could have been a complete stranger the day before the photo had been taken.

But what other choice did she have? It was a long shot but it had to be worth it.

Another photograph slipped out, and Skye picked it up carefully, checking the date on the back.

_Playground bar, 1986_

She turned it over, letting her eyes scan across it like she had with the others.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to her mom, sat up on a bar-stool in the right-hand side of the image, apparently laughing at something the guy next to her in a Captain America t-shirt had said. He was a possibility too, and from their matching smiles and looks of happiness, it definitely appeared that they were friends.

Skye went to add the picture to the pile, but instead she looked closer, peering into a past that she’d never ever really known her mom had experienced.

She was surrounded by people, all around her age, smiling and laughing over their drinks

Skye spotted Natasha in the group, her bright red hair standing out of the image even after spending twenty years in a box. She hadn’t changed. She still was the life and soul of the party.

There were a few other people in the picture, most of whom Skye did not recognise, but she made a mental checklist. Some people she recognised from other pictures, as though their friendship groups almost intercrossed one another. Her eyes scanned the guy with fair hair and Cap shirt, past a woman with pink streaks and glasses, onto the familiar dark-skinned man with the eye-patch.

Why did he have an eye-patch anyway?

She shook her head, and focused her gaze instead on a figure lounging on the bar in the middle of them all.

“Holy shit” Skye exclaimed, letting her breath whistle out through her teeth. She held the photograph up higher, letting the light touch the surface, and her thoughts were confirmed.

That was Thor Odinson.

Thor Odinson, as in, one of the dreamiest swimwear models in the world.

There was no mistaking him, not with those flowing golden blonde locks, and the muscles that looks like he’d just spent six years straight working out.

Her mother had known him. In fact, by the looks of the photo she held between her fingertips, Skye had a feeling her mother had known him well.

That was… awkward. Skye vividly remembered a time when he was her current crush, and she’d torn a poster of him out of one of her magazines, pinning it onto her bedroom wall. She’d thought her mom’s reaction when she’d seen it had been disapproval, but now she wasn’t so sure.

Skye stared in wonder at the group of people before her, all seeming so relaxed and free, before placing it onto the pile next to her. She couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sorrow - her mother had been so happy once, laughing, joking, and hanging out with a large group of friends.

Since having Skye, she’d moved to the island and seemingly never looked back. Never seen most of these people again.

Skye glanced back to the pile of pictures. One of them could contain the identity of her father.

Thor Odinson could be her father.

Wow.


	3. Chapter 3

There was no way on earth she could be the child of a world-famous model… right?

Even just the thought of it messed with Skye’s head - she’d had a crush on that guy for years; if he turned out to be her biological father?

Gross.

Well, kind of gross. Imagine being able to tell people you were the daughter of Thor Odinson.

That would be one hell of a “getting to know me” fact.

She almost grinned to herself, imagining what a life of fame could be like, being taken to premieres and fashion runway shows.

Who was she kidding though? She wasn’t exactly into high-couture and designers.

Back to the task.

Finding Thor Odinson would likely be the easiest part. He was famous, therefore she already knew more about him than any of the other potentials combined.

All she needed to do, was find a way to get an invitation to him, to ensure he visited the island during the time before her wedding.

Skye had spent the last twenty-four hours working out exactly what she was going to do to get all her potential fathers to arrive on the island, at the same time.

She’d gone through many options, ranging from faking a wedding invitation from her mom, hoping they would turn up out of curiosity, right down to tracking them all down herself and showing up to beg them to come back with her.

Probably the least likely.

But after a sleepless night, Skye had settled on her decision.

The island retreat was a centre for respite and rehabilitation, and also doubled up at a honeymoon destination for the lucky few who could get in. But despite the fact they liked it to be quiet, and partially unknown, sometimes the business would drop lower than they really liked. This always left them with money worries, and so, the year before, Trip had helped her with developing a plan to welcome new visitors - to increase the popularity slightly, and to help bring in some money for them all.

They had created discount vouchers and package freebies to offer as competition prizes: “Enter this competition to win a chance to stay at the island” kind of thing.

So, using these, Skye’s plan was simple. She would find the four potential guys, send them the promotional vouchers, and hope they showed up real soon.

And if her mom got curious and asked, all they would be able to say was that they had received them as prizes. Skye knew that not all those they had sent out had been redeemed, and so she hoped her mom wouldn’t question it too much if people then began arriving with them once more.

Simple. In theory anyway.

Skye refused to even think about how many problems it could cause if anything went wrong, and instead turned to searching for candidate number one: Thor Odinson.

A simple Google search revealed a plentiful supply of results, and it took only a few clicks to find the official page for the model.

She swiped through his website, cursing the laggy connection every time a page took more than a couple of seconds to load.

The joys of living off the mainland.

Okay, so contact details were easy enough to find. The problem was that basic details such as an agency email address, or a PO box, wouldn’t let her really be able to send an invite to Thor himself. It would likely go to a personal assistant, or a specifically dedicated “fan services assistant”, who would likely just send a signed photograph in response.

No. Skye knew she needed to get the invite directly to himself.

Thing is, Skye knew a few tricks. When she’d begged her mom to let her attend college on the mainland, rather than still being homeschooled, she’d hoped for the most to enjoy herself and make friends. But whilst there she had met Miles, and he’s taught her the slight of hand and tricks that helped access areas online that regular people were unaware existed.

It had started as a bit of a joke - he bet her she couldn’t hack into their school website and she proved him wrong within an hour. From there they both learned and improved their skills, avoiding getting into serious trouble along the way.

Her mom had not approved of Miles, and Skye knew it was for good reason in the end - the last she’d heard he had been found guilty of hacking into a medical facilities database for someone.

Since Miles, Skye had turned her life around, but the skills she’d acquired would definitely come in handy right now.

Several clicks later, Skye found herself on his Twitter page. A few clicks more and a bit of coding, and she had the IP address of the page creator. That linked her to the contact details for a Mr Thor Odinson himself, including a personal email account.

It really was more simple than most people believed.

She opened a draft email, fiddled a little with the message to ensure the sender would link to his PA’s server, and attached the invitation for him to spend a few days on the retreat. A few words typed out to ensure it sounded like a legitimate offer for him and that it was recommended.

Skye took a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs. She kept it in, closing her eyes and spending a final few seconds making sure it was the choice she wanted to make.

She was well aware that once she hit send, she could potentially set in motion a chain of events that could alter everything - literally - about her life.

Spots began to flash behind her eyelids, and she exhaled, clicking the mouse over the send button, releasing her breath in a flurry of anticipation.

No going back now.

One down. Four to go.

Okay, potential number two.

Skye flicked through the three remaining photographs she had on her desk.

Out of the three, she had a feeling the soldier would likely be the second easiest to track down. He was wearing from the looks of things, American army camouflage, with a matching cap - that was, assuming it wasn’t a costume - but Skye had a feeling it was very real.

She peered closer trying to work out what the wording on his chest said.

From what she could make out, given that her mom’s shoulder was in the way, there was a label on the left of his chest that said “US AR-”, which she guessed by reasonable assumption would probably say “US ARMY”.

The label on the right of his chest read “ROGERS”.

Something in her stomach dropped.

She had a name.

Well, a surname, but still.

She had a name, an approximate year (there was nothing written on the back of the picture to say when it had been taken, but looking at her mom Skye would have guessed her age at about twenty, taking her to around ‘85), and the fact the guy was a soldier, possibly just having ended his training - hence the photographs looking all dressed up and fancy and proud.

She opened a new tab.

She needed a way of tracking down soldiers without breaking the law completely and hacking into files belonging to the US army and intelligence agencies.

That would likely get her arrested, which was not the aim.

Amazingly, her first search for “Rogers, soldier, army, 89” gave her the result she wanted.

A news article popped up, dated from 1991, and Skye scanned through the words, picking up the gist of the story.

A group of soldiers had been on a mission to the mountains of the Swiss Alps when they had been captured by the enemy and held hostage for a number of weeks. During their attempted escape from captivity, one member of the squadron, a James Barnes, had tragically fallen to his death from a moving train. In the years that followed, his comrades, including one Steven Rogers, had fought vigilantly in his name, never giving up hope he would be found alive one day.

Wow.

Skye slowly shook her head as she took in all the information before her.

She needed to know firstly if, as grim as it was, Steve Rogers was still alive. If he was, then she needed to find a way to track him down that didn’t involve hacking military databases.

Skye returned to her web search, flicking through the results and scanning the articles that came up, ignoring the grumbling of her stomach that told her she needed to get some food pretty soon.

He didn’t appear to have any social media profiles, which made her efforts slightly more tricky, but Skye persevered.  

The fourth item she clicked on gave her hope - it was the website to a centre that offered sessions dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, specialising in soldiers discharged from the army. Listed as a guest speaker at various times across the coming year, was none other than “Steven Rogers”.

She grinned at how it was almost too easy.

Ten seconds later and she had the contact details for the centre, knowing that realistically if he had no social media profiles she could find, and without accessing military files that really would break the law, this was the only was she was going to be able to get an invitation to him.

She sent it with less trepidation than she had faced for Thor, probably because the process was already started - no going back.

Her stomach grumbled again.

Time for food; the other two potentials could wait until later.


End file.
